


When Botnapped By A God

by RevyCaitEll, TheHappyRabbit



Series: Old Wounds, New Scars [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Funny Deity, Ghost Megatron, Haunting, Humour, M/M, Primus Meddling in Shit, Total Craic fic that makes no sense for the craic!, influencing shit for the craic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevyCaitEll/pseuds/RevyCaitEll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHappyRabbit/pseuds/TheHappyRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can’t Deities just leave things alone? No? Fine! Have it your way!....  More so your way then! Side story to Old Wounds, New Scars and takes places before, during, after events in the main storyline. P.S. Primus Says Hi!</p><p>Edited: 07/08/2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Botnapped By A God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 23/05/2016

It was quiet. So, so quiet.

He wondered if it was because his audials were malfunctioning. 

The thrum of his engine, the hiss of his hydrolics, the whirl of his vents; all quiet.

Perhaps, he thought with a distinct lack of urgency, he should online his optics.

Frag.

How in the Pit did he get into space?

He looked down at himself, armour pristine, half shrouded in darkness , the other half glowing in the light. He looked to the light on his left. 

Odd... he thought, that’s a strange looking sun.

He looked to his right. The first feeling other than numbing calm; fear, washed through him.

Was that a black hole?

He tried to activate his boosters, wanting to straighten himself. Wait, straighten myself in space?

His boosters did not activate but even so his body moved silently to a more upright position.

Okay…

He looked around again.

If he had to guess he would say he was about halfway between the black hole and the strange looking sun. Right on the line where the darkness and the light met.

As he became more aware, sensation started to return to him. He flexed his servos, rolled his shoulders, moved his peds. He experimentally opened his vent flaps.

A whole lot of nothing.

Could still be space but what part? Where? How did he even get here?

He frowned, processor started to warm up and work for him.

Hatred. Anger. Jealousy. Greed. Pain. Fear. Sorrow. Hopelessness.

He flinched as each feeling exploded through his being, ripping him to pieces only to put him back together again for the next wave.

These were not his emotions! They _couldn’t_ be? How could one being feel so much negative energy and live?

“Oh, you would be surprised.”

He spun round and round. Had he heard that? A voice ripping through the silence, so loud and sudden?

_No one, not a soul._

He frowned again. Had he imagined it?

A light chuckle, not mocking, but amused all the same, like an adult when their child done something innocent but funny.

“No, there are no souls here.”

He whipped round. 

He was roughly the same size as himself, the frame familiar yet completely new to him. Large white, somewhat opaque wings framed him, decorated in spiraling gold and black patterns. A pattern that continued over his frame. Opaque white, almost opalescent, accented with black and gold. His frame was slim, all curves and smooth strokes, long, elegant legs and soft delicate servos His face was young; soft, smooth lines that held so much more then they should. 

Golden optics shone with… He felt his processors struggle. The mech blinked slowly, breaking the contact for a moment and then he could think again.

“There is too much for you to see, for anyone to see.” A visor made of interwoven golden threads weaved its way across his optics. “Is that better?”

He paused, his own optics blinking in confusion. “But now you can’t see.” He replied as that golden decorated visor dipped in a nod.

“I don’t need my optics to see.”

_What kind of an answer is that?_

“A true one.”

“Stop that!” He snapped suddenly and instantly regretted it.

The mech waved his servo. “It’s alright, it is in fact rude to listen to another's thoughts, but it has been a very long time since I have had such a guest as yourself. I must have left my manners somewhere else on my travels. I also had to make sure you were okay.”

He nodded his understanding. “Who are you?” He asked.

The mech smiled sadly. “It depends. Who, my child, are you?”

The mech floated backwards, confused. He opened his mouth, about to answer, but his vocals stalled.

He flinched. _Who am I?_

The other mech turned away, to look at the darkness swirling next to them. “And so your unique journey begins. Where, I wonder, will you finish?” His helm swiveled round to look at the dancing light orb.

“Journey?”

The mech looked back at him, welcoming smile returned. “Yes. Come. Let us begin.”

The mech glided along the line between light and dark and despite his curiosity, the questions swarming his mind, the confusion, he followed.

They traveled for…. A long time. The thought of such a concept suddenly confused him. Time. He should be measuring it. With… something. But why?

The white mech was looking over his shoulder at him. “Perhaps, a name, will help ground you.”

He frowned. A name. He looked down at himself. He was sure he had one already. His servo rubbed across grey chest plates. 

“Grey.” He whispered. 

The mech nodded. “Grey it is! Not too dark, not too bright, in between, a testament to where you currently are.”

“And you?” He asked without thinking, helm whipping up to the mech guiding him.

The mech’s wing flared for a moment. “Me? What do you wish to call me? I can be anything that you desire.”

Grey tilted his helm in thought, optics looking over the mech before him. “I don’t… Know yet.” A white helm tilted in question. “I don’t know you very long.”

“Well then, perhaps, your first impression of me?”

Grey furrowed his brow, the word popping out of his mouth before he could fully understand. “Voice.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light but Grey was sure that golden visor flashed.

“Voice.” The mech repeated. “What kind of voice?”

Grey shook his helm. “Familiar.” 

The mech nodded. “Voice. A familiar voice. How does my voice make you feel, Grey?”

Grey blinked. “Safe.” He jumped at his own growled utterance of his reply. It had not been his own answer! It sounded disgusted, like it was false, a mere illusion. “Safe!” He whispered again, relieved to hear his own voice.

The mech just watched him, mouth relaxed and nonjudgmental. “Voice. I like it.” He simply replied before turning away to continued floating along the line between dark and light.

XxXxX

“What is it?” Grey asked sometime later, indicating to the large black mass that was either so vast they couldn’t get away from it or it was following them.

“A destination.”

Grey frowned, biting his lower lip. He would never travel there. He looked to his other side. “And that one?”

“The same.”

Grey nodded. “How do I get there?”

Voice stopped and turned back to him. “Is that where you want to go?”

Grey nodded, optics traveling back to the warm tendrils of light dancing just out of reach.

Voice just smiled. “Is that your choice?”

Grey nodded again, letting the warmth reach out to him but before he could touch it Voice took his servo.

“Good. If that is your choice, but first, you must go somewhere else.”

Grey had been about to answer when, in the corner of his optic, he saw movement ahead of them. It was on the centre of the line, like them. 

Voice beckoned as he traveled forwards and Grey followed.

His optics snapped suddenly and he could feel the wind against his armor, the roar of a crowd rattling his audials. And there, down below him, in a filthy arena was two beings.

Both were clumsy with their attacks, desperate and untrained. Limbs jumbled in discoordination and bodies positioned and angled wrong.

Grey shook his helm, how did he know how to tell such things?

A mech was struggling for his life against a much bigger foe, a foe Grey could not make out. Its shimmering black form howled with rage and snarled in a voice that chilled him. The shadow was limping, bleeding black smoke, it’s glowing red eyes glinting with fear and desperation.

It was afraid.

Grey felt his spark flare and he fell to his knees. At the same time, in the arena, the shadow had pinned the mech to the ground.

Voice was crouched beside him, mouth tilted in worry. “What would you choose?”

Even with the crowd screaming around them for blood Voice was clear and calm. 

Grey sobbed, not understanding why, he looked around. No one was watching them.

“Finish him!”

“Kill him!”

“End it now!”

Why would they want such a thing? Why? He felt a fire sear through his processor. He looked down at the arena again.

The shadow stood over the howling mech, sword poised to kill, but he hesitated and a small orb of light began to glow from its chest. Grey watched as something dark, a tendril wrapped itself tighter around the shimmering form, crushing the growing light, shattering it to pieces. Red optics flashed and the fear was gone, replaced with hatred and anger.

“I choose life!” Grey screamed and a flash of gold cut across him.

The sword came down to the sound of chanting.

“Megatron! Megatron! Megatron!”

XxXxX

Grey sobbed and sobbed. His frame curled in on itself with each heave of his vents. He couldn’t understand it. The pain he was experiencing. The sudden feeling of something important being torn away..

He clutched at his chest, his spark throbbing.

Voice stood vigil beside him, servo gently stroking his helm.

His body shuddered again and he looked away from Voice in shame, though he couldn’t understand its origin.

“Hush Grey. You are safe now. Listen to my voice.”

Grey did. He let those soothing tones wash through his distraught feelings and sweep them away. He let Voice’s humming vibrate through his frame, helping him relax and calm himself.

“I don’t understand.” Grey spoke, voice uneven with his distress.

Voice just hummed so more, his servo delicately rubbing along his helm.

Grey offlined his optics, and forced air through his vents. “Why? I choose for him to live?”

Voice stopped his stroking and helped Grey to his feet. “Yes, you did choose life.” He cupped Grey’s face. “So why didn’t he live?”

Grey growled. “That monster killed him!”

Fear. Desperation. Pain. _Survive!_

Grey clutched his chest at the sudden onslaught. Voice steadied him.

“That Monster?” Voice asked, not reacting to Grey’s sudden cry of shock. “You say such cruel words Grey.”

“He took that mech’s life.” Grey dragged out. “He didn’t have to kill him!” He said, so certain that the mech could have been spared by the shadow thing.

Voice sighed. “No. He made a choice.”

“But it was wrong!” Grey shouted. 

The opaque mech just smiled sadly. “What did you see Grey? What did you feel?”

Grey shook his helm. “That shadow thing. It was…” 

Red optics flashed, drawn wide and darting.

Afraid.

_Fear._

He saw the frantic movements to block oncoming attacks, the clumsy attempts to disarm the other mech.

Desperate to not get hurt.

_Desperation._

Black smoke bled freely from wounds that had been inflicted. He tried to protect his damaged areas.

Trying to prevent…

_Pain._

“Why would I feel all those things! The things it felt!” Grey exclaimed, servos grasping his helm.

He saw the black tendril wrapped around the shimmering body, _and tighten!_

_Survive!_

Grey let his arms drop. The black tendril. The shadow thing had been defensive until then, until that tendril tightened around it.

Voice smiled. “There is a darkness in all of us Grey. Some mechs are better at fighting it and sometimes the darkness gets a little help.”

“What was it? That thing?”

“It was a mech.”

“No,” Grey argued. “It was no mech. It had so much darkness already. It was a Shadow!”

Voice just nodded. “Very well. Grey, if you say it was no mech, then it shall be Shadow.”

Grey just bowed his helm, feeling like he had been scolded, insulted, _hurt._

He caught a glimpse of his arms before his vision darkened and he was claimed by a restful recharge.

Since when did my plating have that same gold spiraling as Voice’s?

XxXxX

He awoke to voices, one calm but upset, the other angery and aggressive.

Voice appeared and helped him straighten.

“Where are we?”

“At a very important pivotal moment in time.”

Grey looked about him, 

There was a red and blue mech, with optics so blue he was sure they were made of pure sapphire crystals. Grey felt drawn to the mech but he couldn't understand why.

The red and blue had a battle mask over his faceplates, in one servo hanging limply by his side he held a blaster.

Grey felt alarmed and looked around further.

Devastation. 

Buildings were torn apart. Mechs lay strewn across the rubble. Fire burned in the distance

“Please! Megatron!”

Grey snapped his helm back round to the red and blue mech.

Shadow was there, a figure of rolling black smoke and blazing red optics. There was no shimmer of light through his form now. He was just a solid black mass and of evil energy. 

And he was talking to the red and blue, standing so near, too near. Grey tried to reach out, to push that evil away from the red and blue mech, but he couldn’t move.

Shadow laughed, a spark chilling cackle. “Beg me Prime! I might just spare your miserable life!”

Grey shivered. Prime. It meant something to him.

Voice clutched his shoulder. “Watch Grey.”

So Grey did. Shadow lifted his arm, a ball of red light swirling into existence and at the same time a small orb of light began to puncture the darkness where Shadow’s core was.

Shadow hesitated.

And Prime moved.

Suddenly the small orb was encompassed by a familiar appendage. The back tendril was once again crushing the orb until it shattered.

Grey felt something break away from him, but he did not cry out in pain, too stunned.

Shadow gave chase to the retreating red and blue, screaming taunts and howling his fury, all the while the tendril slowly stroking his core.

Grey was silent. He stood steady even as the scene dissolved around him and returned him to that line between light and dark.

“What are you thinking?” Voice asked gently.

Grey sneered. “He could have stopped it.”

Voice tilted his helm. “Stopped what Grey?”

“All of it!” Grey screamed, spittle flying from his mouth plates.

His fans howled with his stress and suddenly his optics widened. He pulled away from Voice when he realized he had thrust his face into the other’s. He gasped, confused, ashamed.

“It’s okay.”

“No,” Grey whispered. How could he have forgotten about the war? About all the death? “How could I?”

_It all had to burn!_

Voice held his arm. “How could you what?”

Grey looked up. “Forget?” But for some reason he felt that his answer was wrong. He felt guilty, his spark felt like it was drowning in grief.

“What would you have chosen Grey?”

The words came unbidden but they rang true as if they had come from his very spark. “The council were wrong, but Optimus Prime wanted change too, the same change! I would have sided with him.”

Even without Voice’s optics visible he was sure they were somehow stripping him down to his core, laying him bare, trying to find some evidence of deception.

“You would have Grey. You truly would have.”

Grey felt a warmth tickle along his frame and looked down. A thread of gold was weaving it’s way across his armour. He followed it with his optics, and for some unknown reason he was not afraid.

“Grey.”

He refocused his optics and noticed his peds were bathed in more light than darkness. He was no longer on the line, but he had crossed it and was travelling deeper into the light.

“Grey.” The gentle nudge recaptured his attention. “Time to continue your journey.”

XxXxX

Voice brought him to so see so many things. They all involved Shadow. The orb of light. The black tendril. 

And he always felt something of himself snap and burn away with each cruelty Shadow inflicted on those around him.

Voice and Grey followed Shadow through the Autobot/Decepticon Civil war as he made his choices, as did Grey. Each time he would return with a new golden thread and he would be a little closer to the orb of light that he wished to go to.

“I don’t understand.” Grey confronted Voice after a rather distressing scene with Shadow and a young Seeker called Starscream. “Why are you making me watch these? Why are you making me choose and then let the other outcome happen anyway?”

He was starting to feel hollow, numb. It frightened him.

Voice let himself drift upwards. “You can’t change what has already happened Grey.”

“Then why are we doing this?” 

“To see what you would really choose without an outside influence.”

Grey frowned. How was that an answer? He just grit his denta, aware that when Voice was cryptic he would never elaborate on things. He pushed down his annoyance.

He scratched his chest plates. They felt colder than they should have, almost empty. 

“Can we keep moving?” He asked, unnerved and frustrated.

“This is the last one Grey.”

He almost felt relief.

Shadow had a blue mech by his throat, he was growling and spitting into the mach’s covered faceplates.

“You will not leave because I said so! You are my soldier!”

Grey recognized Soundwave, a mech who had supported Shadow throughout the war unfaltering. Sometimes Shadow had even regained some of his brightness around the mech but now Shadow was pitch black apart from his optics which burned with anger. A molten red seared with rage.

Behind Shadow was some sort of power generating facility. Alarms were blaring and energy crackled around the machines.

“Lord Megatron! Plant about to explode!” Soundwave ground out.

“You think I care?” Shadow hissed back.

“Deactivation: certain!”

Shadow slapped him hard. “I am your leader and you will do as I say!”

Grey watched as a tiny flickering light tried to reach out from the darkness. Shadow’s opics softened, servo loosening. Until the black tendril slithered over the struggling light, it didn’t even have to crush it as it sizzled out.

Shadow’s optics blazed as he crushed Soundwave’s spinal column running up the back of his neck but before he could throw the mech from him, flame engulfed them.

Something broke.

Grey screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

XxXxX

His spark chamber was cold, empty. After the burning pain had ebbed he had clawed open his chest plates.

He was curled up on the ground. Where, he had no idea. He didn’t care. 

“No, there are no souls here.” Voice had said.

Grey had never thought that meant him too.

Voice was standing some way off from him, watching. Mouth a thin line. He hadn’t spoken, or approached, just stood there watching.

Grey felt his empty chamber again.

“Why?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Voice moved his helm, but did not answer.

Grey felt anger flare through him. “Why did you do this to me?”

This time Voice lifted his helm. “I did not do this.”

Grey felt an answer bubble up from his throat and his optics widened in shock as he whispered. “I did!”

“Yes. I know.” Voice answer.

Grey growled, denta snapping together in a snarl. “This one is mine!” Grey tried to stop the words, his movements, but his body stood as if under some else’s control.

 _You still don’t get it you fool!_ That same snarling voice whispered in his head.

“No,” Voice responded calmly. “He has made his choice.”

Grey could see the gold lines in his armor glowing brighter, and brighter.

“He is mine!” His body spat.

_Kill him!_ The voice was so loud! So overwhelming. _Kill him now!... Megatron!_

Grey felt everything stall. 

Megatron. 

Megatron.

Megatron.

He knew that name.

_KILL HIM!_

“No!” Gray screamed, grabbing his helm. “No! No!” He fell to his knees and looked down.

His spark chamber was no longer empty.

The back tendril flicked outward from where his core should have been.

“No!” He screamed, this time shocked rather than assertive.

_I can give you everything!_

_I can give you power!_

_Immortality!_

“NO!” Grey reached into his chest and grabbed the writhing appendage.

_No! Stop! What are you doing you fool!_

Grey pulled with all his strength.

XxXxX

He knew that name.

It was his.

Memories flooded back to him, everything Voice had shown him but from Shadow’s perspective, his perspective.

All the emotions, all the pain. Everything. In one painful wave of energy.

He, Megatron, had destroyed everything.

He could still feel the anger, the greed, even the echoes of that voice in his head, but now he also could feel everything else; hope, love, happiness.

It was like part of him had been trapped, that only half of him had been allowed to come through.

He was free and whole now.

He had made so many mistakes. Had been used by something dark. He had been a puppet his whole life.

He should have been angry. He should have gone on a warpath, destroying anything that lay before him, but he didn’t.

He was numb.

His spark chamber was still empty.

“Voice.” He called. “That is not who you are.”

Voice appeared in his view. “No.”

“Primus.” Megatron sneered out of habit, out of bitterness, out of pain.

The God dipped his helm. “Megatron.”

Megatron sneered again. “Why?”

Primus sighed. “You were one of my chosen.”

Megatron sat up straight and glared. “Your chosen?” He scoffed.

“Yes, hence why my brother also chose you.”

That gave Megatron pause. 

“Unicron.” He finally said and Primus nodded.

That made some sense he guessed. The chaos bringer.

“Why did you choose me? What for? I thought your chosen were the Primes and you already had one of them.”

The deity laughed. “Oh, I can choose more than just Primes on occasion. You and Optimus… you were meant to be a single entity.”

Megatron, shocked, turned to him before throwing his helm back and laughing hard. “What? You mean we were meant to bond?”

Primus didn’t laugh with him. “As Grey you felt a pull, so too, should you have as Megatron. You did infact but my brother used your pain and fear to cloud your judgement, to hide your feelings.”

Megatron rubbed his forehelm. “The war should never have happened.”

“No.”

“I started it.”

“Yes.” Primus answered carefully. 

Megatron shook his helm. “Great.”

He looked around. They were floating again, in what looked like some underwater, space cross. Colours from all over the spectrum hummed and shimmered around them.

“My spark?”

Primus allowed himself to float closer to the grey mech. “With each choice, he surrendered part of your soul for you.”

“Unicron has it?” He asked, already aware of the answer.

“Yes. I am afraid so. But this journey has weakened his hold on it.”

Not expecting such a response Megatron focused his full attention onto the deity, optics bright with hope only for them to fade down to dull along with words he had wanted to speak.

“But I am dead already. Aren’t I?” How could he redeem his spark if he wasn’t alive to do so.

Primus smirked, and Megatron could swear it held a mischievous flare similar to Starscream’s. “Are you?”

Megatron narrowed his optics in warning. 

Primus outright laughed at him. “Perhaps, I can give you one more chance? But first, I must catch you up on what you have missed in your world.”

Megatron stood up, or at least unfurled himself and stretched out in the space he was in. “Would it not be strange if I suddenly came back from the dead?”

Primus snickered. “I thought that would go well with your deity complex thing you have going.”

Megatron froze. Did Primus just crack a joke?

“Oh please! Why do you think I gave my creations humor and mischievousness in the first place? I need entertainment too you know!”

Megatron felt himself smile. _Well frag me_ he thought.

Primus whirled on him. “No thanks!”

Megatron nearly choked.


End file.
